


Next Stop

by paragraph (ebcdic)



Category: Fall Out Boy, The Academy Is...
Genre: Chicago (City), Holding Hands, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Public Transportation, Questioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 11:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12747603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebcdic/pseuds/paragraph
Summary: This morning, Pete had gotten this crazy idea in his head about riding all the lines on the L all in one day. Of course, he just had to share this adventure with Patrick.





	Next Stop

"Would you stop that?"

Patrick cracks one eye open at the sound of Pete's voice, disturbingly close to his ear. They're riding on the Orange Line toward the Loop, so they can transfer to the Brown Line. About two minutes into the ride, Patrick had settled down in a seat at the back of the car and had closed his eyes. He wasn't sleeping, not really, just drifting in and out, thinking about how nice and normal his life was pre-Pete. 

Patrick reluctantly opens his other eye and frowns. "Stop what?"

"Thinking about how you miss your normal life. You do not miss your normal life," Pete states matter-of-factly.

"How did--" Patrick cuts himself off with a shake of his head. Somehow, Pete always knows what he's thinking. It stopped being creepy about a month after meeting him. Mostly because Patrick seems to have the same talent with Pete's own thoughts. "I was not."

Pete rolls his eyes and shoves Patrick toward the window. Patrick glares at Pete until he throws an arm around his shoulders and rests his head against Patrick's neck. 

"Were too."

Sighing, Patrick gives up the argument and looks out the window as they pull into the Ashland stop. This morning, Pete had gotten this crazy idea in his head about riding all the lines on the L all in one day. Of course, he just had to share this adventure with Patrick. Even though Patrick had flat-out refused to be dragged around Chicago on a Saturday, when he could be sleeping instead, he somehow found himself going anyway. Such was the power of Pete. 

"So," Patrick says once they're in the Loop, "what exactly is the plan once we've finished this?"

Pete lifts his head off Patrick's shoulder and furrows his brow. "You don't know?"

Patrick raises an eyebrow. "Why would I ask if I knew?"

Shrugging, Pete slumps down in the seat, his knees hitting the plastic seat in front of them. Patrick frowns slightly and then nudges Pete with his shoulder.

"C'mon, Pete."

"Let's get off at LaSalle."

"Fine. That's the next stop," Patrick agrees after glancing at the CTA map above the doors.

At LaSalle, Pete moves swiftly through the turnstiles and down the stairs. Only by jogging slightly is Patrick able to keep up with him as he heads west. When Pete abruptly stops, Patrick runs into him, but Pete doesn't even seem to notice at first.

"Fuck," Pete swears softly.

"Sorry, I--"

"Not you, Patrick," Pete sighs as he turns around. He gestures behind himself at a closed restaurant. "I just thought it would be open."

Patrick blinks twice. "It's Saturday. This is the financial district."

"Yeah, I forgot." 

"You forgot it was Saturday?"

"No, I forgot everything shut down here on the weekends."

"Okay."

Pete just keeps on standing there, staring over Patrick's shoulder, his eyes slightly glazed. Patrick looks behind himself and doesn't see anything of particular interest. After a few seconds, he clears his throat.

"So--"

"You know, me and William used to eat here."

The sudden admission of sorts throws Patrick off. He scratches the back of his neck, not sure why Pete mentioned it.

"Yeah?" he asks neutrally.

"Yeah," Pete repeats with a shrug. 

Suddenly, he steps forward into Patrick's personal space. Since he's fairly used to this, Patrick doesn't step back. He just waits for Pete to touch him or whisper something to him or whatever he's going to do without a second thought.

"I could kiss you right here."

And after whispering it, he does kiss Patrick, right there. It's a soft kiss, just a drag of his lips. Patrick really doesn't have time to react.

"Really," Pete ghosts his fingers down Patrick's throat, "I bet I could get down on my knees and blow you and not a soul would notice."

Involuntarily, Patrick shivers. He tries to stop himself from shaking, licking his lips, or making any other nervous gestures. This could be some kind of joke. This is the guy that likes to hit people in the balls with bats and will drink his own urine on a dare, after all.

"Umm," is about all Patrick can force out.

Pete grins wide. His shit-eating, shark grin. Patrick frowns and pushes Pete away. 

"Asshole," he mutters.

The grin doesn't fade. Patrick pouts slightly and turns away, heading toward the lake. After a few beats, he hears Pete's Converse slapping on the pavement behind him.

"Patrick, c'mon, wait up." He catches up and taps Patrick's shoulder. "I was just fucking with you."

Patrick rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I know," he deadpans.

"Like, I'm sorry, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Patrick waves him off. "We done here?"

"Could you look at me?"

Pete's got that hurt little boy tone that Patrick just can't resist try as he might. Sighing softly, he turns around and looks at Pete. 

"I'm looking at you."

"Ask me something."

"Huh?" Patrick frowns in confusion. 

"You know, like, ask me anything. Anything you ever wanted to know," Pete elaborates as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Umm," Patrick tries to figure out if this is another game while simultaneously trying to figure out a question. 

"It's not a trick."

Pete doesn't hold up his hands or grin disarmingly or add "I swear," so Patrick is inclined to believe him. Sort of.

"All right, so tell me about you and William."

"That's not really a question," Pete hedges.

"Close enough," Patrick says and crosses his arms over his chest.

Pete sighs heavily. "Okay, okay." He looks back toward the restaurant. "When I was going to DePaul, we would meet up over there between my classes and shit. Sometimes, we would walk around. More times than not, we ended up at that little park by the big library, you know, next to that law school?"

Patrick nods when Pete looks back at him. Pete shrugs.

"So, you know, we'd lay on the grass and watch the students and homeless people and shoppers pass us by without a glance in our direction. We'd count the number of L trains that passed above us. William had all these ideas and shit. Crazy ideas. Brilliant ideas. And we would weave our ideas together with overlapping sentences and nods and it just all seemed so… possible. Every word that came out of our mouths seemed possible. It was kinetic."

Pete takes a deep breath and glances down at his feet. 

"And, like, I swore that there was more to it than just that. Every time he even brushed his hand against mine, I felt these electric sparks. The kind you read about in novels. We kissed every once in awhile and I desperately wanted more, but. Well, he tried to let me down gently but I just couldn't take it. I thought, that's fucking it."

He looks up and meets Patrick's eyes. "But then I met you."

Patrick's eyes widen. "What?"

One of Pete's feet tilts to the side and he ducks his head for a second. "I wasn't fucking with you back there. I, just, the way you reacted, I thought…"

"Oh."

"Yeah, so."

"I," Patrick pauses. His heart is racing too fast for him to think clearly. "I need to think about this, okay?"

Pete's face starts to fall before he catches himself and half-smiles, half shrugs. He starts walking toward the lake and Patrick stands there, not sure what to do for a second before he turns and catches up with him.

"Where are you going?"

"The Blue Line. Unless you want to walk all the way to the Metra," Pete replies without turning around.

Patrick twists his lips and then grabs Pete's shoulder to turn him around. "Pete…"

"Yeah?" Pete's voice is neutral. His face is unreadable.

"I just. I'm not. I mean, adverse to it. You. But I've never. Well, I mean, the once. But I was like ten. Does that count? I mean, it was just kissing…"

Patrick trails off with a blush and ducks his head. When Pete doesn't say anything after a moment, Patrick lifts his head, looks away and starts walking past Pete. He's only taken a few steps past him when Pete grabs his wrist. Patrick stops, but doesn't turn around.

"I don't know if it counts."

After biting his lip, Patrick looks over his shoulder. "I don't want things to be weird, okay?"

"They already are."

Patrick tugs on Pete's wrist to pull him closer. Pete steps forward until they're almost chest-to-chest.

"You probably think I'm a pussy, but I'm scared. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't want to fuck us up."

Pete grins slightly. "You think you're the one who's going to fuck it up?"

An involuntary burst of laughter escapes Patrick's lips. "Well, when you put it that way…"

"Fucker," Pete swears as he wraps his arms around Patrick's neck. "You weren't supposed to agree with me."

"I thought you liked it when I agreed with you."

"Yeah," Pete breathes. 

Patrick can't stop himself from closing the distance. He brushes his lips against Pete's until Pete kisses him back with light licks and nips. One of Pete's hands slides down his chest and hip to find Patrick's hand. He grasps it tightly and that more than anything makes Patrick shiver. Breaking away slightly, he presses his forehead against Pete's.

"Let's go home."

Pete smiles and Patrick knows that no matter where this leads them, Pete will always have some part of him. The realization almost knocks him off his feet, but it doesn't feel like a bad thing; it feels like the best thing possible. Patrick smiles back and kisses Pete one more time before they head toward the Blue Line.


End file.
